Désespérément Amoureux
by DaylightButterfly
Summary: She was frozen in wonder, in defiance, in pure and utter terror for what was to come of this. A tiny pink blossom fell from her fingertips, the rose petals drifted from where she had amassed them atop her hat. And Prince Red of Kanto gave her the slightest of smiles and a tip of his hat. Specialshipping, Cinderella AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! So, I decided to start writing for Pokespe, since I've been obsessed with the fandom for nearly three years already, and have miraculously never written anything for it. This is a retake on Cinderella, with Specialshipping being the main focus. It'll probably be a two-shot.**

 **I'm thinking about starting a mini-series for Pokespe fairytale retellings, with Oldrival, Mangaquest, Frantic, and maybe Commoner. We'll see.**

 **But, without futher ado, enjoy!**

* * *

It was a cloudy Tuesday afternoon when her stepsister came running in with the news.

Prince Red of Kanto was hosting a ball. A royal ball. For all of the eligible young ladies of the kingdom, because he was looking for a bride.

A princess.

 _A queen._

Yellow tried to ignore the little pitter-patter her heart gave at the sound of it. After all, she had outgrown such childish romantic fantasies the winter of her seventh birthday, when the doctor had been only a couple of seconds too late to save her father's life. When she had been left behind with a horror of a step-mother, and a too-perfect older stepsister. When she had discovered that the chores were endless, and the days long and weary.

When the opportunities for a better future had blown away with the wind and the scream of her stepmother's voice.

There was absolutely no way that a prince, let alone _Prince Red of Kanto_ , would ever look at her twice, even if she was thrown into a royal ball right under his nose. He had saved the country more times than one could count; had donated his time to hospitals and orphanages; was expected to be the greatest king in Kanto history. She was nothing but a wisp of a girl with crushed dreams and a life of work.

Yellow walked out of the drawing room with her head down and her hands tightly clasped under the filthy white apron of the only plain brown dress she owned.

* * *

It was a week after the announcement of the ball when she first met him. Her hair had been a mess, her dress tattered, her heart racing. He had stood a foot and a half taller than her, and she had spent the entire encounter wishing he hadn't been so _Arceus cursed_ perfect.

The peaceful little perfume shop on the corner street had been unusually crowded due to preparations for the next week's ball, and she had been just one more desperate servant, one more desperate girl, doing her last minute shopping.

 _Ginger Spice for Mother, Cerulean Sea Breeze for Misty._

 _And nothing for me._

The list had run through her head like a broken record player, imprinting itself into her memory so she would not forget. And that was how she'd mumbled and stumbled her way into Prince Red of Kanto in the corner perfume shop.

He'd apologized, he'd asked her if she was alright, he'd given her one of those brilliant smiles every girl in the land swooned over. And she'd known by the glimmer in his eye that he had found the petite, innocent-looking little blondie girl squeaking in front of him to be rather amusing.

He'd been the perfect gentleman (although she couldn't fathom why he'd been in the perfume shop in the first place...).

She'd looked like a fool.

But somehow she couldn't quite bring herself to care about the details all that much. She had met _Prince Red of Kanto_. He had _spoken_ to her.

For the rest of the day, her entire being had tingled with exhilaration and glittery glee and anticipation for the next time she would see him again.

 _If_ she would see him again.

(She'd spent the entire night blaming his stupid perfection for every ounce of bit-back attraction she might have felt for him).

* * *

Their next encounter was an accident, if nothing else. A stroke of luck.

A mistake.

He was riding by on horseback, dark hair gleaming in the morning light. She was standing in the thick of the woods, tucking a flower behind the ear of her little stray dog, Chuchu. It might have been the shuffling of her feet in the grasses, or perhaps a low snuffle from Chuchu, that drew his gaze to her.

A lonely girl seeking comfort from the thousands and thousands of unruly wild roses.

A boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Their eyes met for only the briefest of seconds, but she had seen the recognition flash in his gaze.

And then he was supposed to turn away. To leave behind the memory of the boyish-looking peasant girl he just kept bumping into, and save his energy for his more worthy company. To forget that there was a world outside of his fame and wealth and glory, and move on.

But he had looked at her, as if she might have been the only person he had ever truly seen, and slowed his pace until his hunting party was several steps ahead of him.

They went on, and he stopped completely.

The silence thickened between them, and Yellow could feel the heat of the stares they were receiving.

She knew that there was going to be talk. That the striking young men of the court who had joined the Prince that day were already gossiping among themselves. A girl, they would say. A dirty blonde girl that wasn't worth two pennies of His Highness' time, and yet there he was.

They would speak of his compassion. His interest in the wellbeing of his people. How poor she must have been, and how stupid and desperate she must have looked.

Yellow wanted to run and hide and disappear as just one more golden-headed wildflower among thousands.

But somehow she could not find the strength to run from him, or shy away, although every ounce of sense in her body was screaming at her to move. Was telling her that he was not good for her. Was warning her that, by encouraging this meeting, she was only dooming herself to yet another hopeless romantic fantasy.

Because she was frozen in wonder, in defiance, in pure and utter terror for what was to come of this. A tiny pink blossom fell from her fingertips, the rose petals drifted from where she had amassed them atop her hat. Chuchu barked and pulled closer to Yellow.

And Prince Red of Kanto gave her the slightest of smiles and a tip of his hat.

She knew the moment he started to walk away that she was gone. Blown away with the breeze wafting lazily in his wake. Crumbled to dust like the ashes in the depth of her fireplace.

After all, nothing but heartbreak was in her future now. He was a prince. She would watch him meet a beautiful girl at the ball who was smart and refined and every bit as wonderful as he was, and she would sit on the sidelines as they fell in love and got married and grew old together.

He was destined for far more than Yellow could ever offer.

And it would never happen.

She could only hope that she was strong enough to survive the aftermath of Heartbreak...

* * *

Misty looked beautiful that night. The moment that Yellow laid eyes on her stepsister, she knew that Red was going to fall in love. With a chin held high with confidence and bright green eyes dazzling with excitement, Misty was nothing but a godess.

A princess.

A queen.

Yellow knew that she should be happy for her sister; happy that at least someone in her life would be getting a happy ending. Even though Misty did not care for her, and had not once expressed any form of sisterly love towards her, Misty was still the only sister she had.

 _Be happy for her._

And besides, there was no scenario that Yellow could imagine where her attending the ball ended in happiness for anyone. It was better if she didn't go at all.

 _Better if she never saw him again._

"Yellow, I expect the dishes to be washed and the house to be spick and tidy when we return!" Her stepmother gave her a final glare before bustling out the door. Misty floated in her wake, and Yellow wondered if she would ever be able to look like that one day.

And then they were gone.

Off to party the night of their lives, off to meet Prince Red in person and actually talk to him, and to charm him with their witty remarks and bright smiles.

Would Misty feel her heart pounding the same way Yellow's did every time she saw him? Would Misty stand from afar and find satisfaction from just being near him, from knowing he was there, like Yellow did?

Would he steal Misty's heart like he had so blatantly taken hers, or would he wait for her to willingly give it up?

A lump rose in Yellow's throat, and she knew that it was over now. Any chance she'd ever had of meeting and dancing and laughing with him had driven away in her stepmother's carriage. Prince Red of Kanto would exist as no more than a ghost in her mind now.

And...and she would leave this experience stronger and better able to face the cruel wrath of fate.

She would NOT be broken.

But then the tears came in great walloping sobs, and the pitter-patter of droplets on her skirt reminded her that, once upon a time, the only pitter-pattering had been that of her whole, idealistic heart.

Who was she kidding?

She had been broken for so long, it might be impossible for her to ever be whole again. She had fallen apart before any of the smiles or hat tips or perfume shops ever happened. The day Misty had come running in with the announcement of a royal ball was the day Yellow had shattered to pieces.

She stumbled out the back door and into the garden, bare feet finding comfort in the warm springiness of the earth beneath her. Her form crumpled into a tiny, fragile ball against the house's walls, and she berated herself as onslaught after onslaught of tears wracked her body.

 _Stupid girl. Stupid heart. Stupid falling in love and princes and balls and stupid hope that he would ever see me as more than just another pitiful subject._

 _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid..._

* * *

She sat outside on the moonlight baked earth for what seemed like an eternity. Time stopped still, and there was nothing except for the labor of her own breathing and the calamity of her own thoughts. Not a single bird called. Not a single breeze stirred the clear spring air.

And that was when the girl had appeared out of thin air.

She was tall, but then again everyone was tall in Yellow's standards, and had light brown locks draped neatly over her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep blue, like gemstones, and she was wearing a dress of the palest gold.

Yellow was about to question her for trespassing when she spotted the two pale, periwinkle blitzed wings sprouting from the girl's back.

 _An angel, come to take her for a better place?_

No. A faerie, with a crown of forget-me-nots and a long silver wand grasped in her right hand and a smile brighter than the moon.

Yellow gazed in wonder, not daring to breathe, until the girl suddenly turned around and glared at something, or someone, behind her. It was a boy Yellow hadn't even realized was there before. He too possessed sheer wings, only of deep mahogany, and looked rather...depressed?

"Silver, what did I tell you about introductions?!" The girl hissed at her companion, who simply stared back at her with a perfect deadpan. His long red hair swayed slightly with a light breeze, his dark gray suit blended perfectly with the hazy night.

The female faerie rolled her eyes and shifted her focus back onto Yellow, who was standing perfectly still. There were two faeries. Speaking in front of her. _To_ her.

She had read about faeries in story books; fell asleep dreaming about how one day she would meet one who would whisk her out of her miserable life.

 _Was this the day?_

No. Of course not. They were probably here to mock her; to laugh at how depressing her situation was, and how insignificant her pain was in the grand scheme of things.

She braced herself for their verdict, but it never came.

Rather than turning her fury onto Yellow, the brunette girl beamed at her, and called her all sorts of adorable as she pulled her to her feet. The redhead boy stared monotonously forward, as if almost bored with his predicament, but didn't show any outward signs of agression. Within minutes they had her seated on one of the wooden benches in the garden, and the brunette faerie introduced herself as "Blue".

"I'm your faerie godmother, sweetie!" Blue giggled excitedly, and turned to her companion. "And this is my accomplice-"

"Willing assistant," the red haired boy cut in.

"-willing assistant and _underling_ , Silver". Blue's smile never faltered, but her eyes took on a slightly dangerous glint, and Yellow shivered slightly. This was probably not a person (or faerie or whatever she was) that Yellow wanted to mess with.

However, Silver remained unperturbed, and simply pressed his lips together in obvious annoyance.

Yellow could do nothing but stare at them in silence, heart pounding and unsure of what happened next. Faerie godmother. She, _Yellow of the Viridian Forest_ , orphaned peasant girl of the Kanto kingdom, had a _faerie godmother_.

The quiet dragged on for several awkward heartbeats before Blue let out a sigh. She grasped one of Yellow's hands in both of her own, in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture.

"Yellow, as you're probably well aware of, you are in a SERIOUS dilemma, munchkin. And I'm-"

" _We._ "

"- _we_ are here to get you out of it!" She rolled her eyes. "Silver, would you like to do the honors?"

Before Silver could reply, or give any sort of reaction, Blue sat down beside Yellow and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Yellow almost trembled at the touch, but it felt nothing but warm and friendly.

Faerie godmother. Miracle-worker.

 _Friend?_

Blue's assistant/underling/willing accomplice Silver stepped forward and pulled out a wand of his own, ebony black and crooked all over. He wielded it with the deftness of one who knew his trade well.

"He's supposed to be a messenger faerie, but it got too boring for him, so now I'm training him on wish granting. This way he can be promoted Genie, or perhaps even Godfather status." Blue whispered proudly to Yellow, but all the blondie could focus on was the line of bright, golden light that flashed from Silver's wand.

A pumpkin to a golden carriage.

Mice to men.

Her ratty, worn clothes to a dress of the most splendid shade of silver, fitted with a tiara and necklace to match.

Yellow knew it was happening, but part of her was still convinced it was too good to be true.

It was magic.

 _Magic that was taking her to Prince Red._

"All done, pumpkin! Now, just remember, Silver isn't the most skilled of the faerie kind-"

"Hey!"

"-so his spells aren't permanent. Your dress and coach and carriage are going to revert back to their normal state at approximately..." she checked her wrist, where a watch magically appeared, "...twelve o'clock AM, so don't forget to keep an eye on the time, alright? Now go get 'em, tiger!"

Yellow flushed and nodded minutely, noticing Silver give Blue a "don't make her too uncomfortable" stare out of the corner of her eye before she stepped with skirts lifted onto her shining golden carriage. Elation filled her, and she knew that this had already been the most exciting night of her life.

 _Whatever happens at the ball, I don't care. I met my faerie godmother. One miracle is enough for one day._

Even though she knew deep down that Prince Red mattered more than any droplet of magic. That she would perhaps be even more heartbroken if she went to the ball and found him already infatuated with another girl.

 _But at least I get to go. At least I have even the slimmest of chances._

Just as Yellow was about to tell her horseman to start the carriage, Blue rushed up to her and grasped her forearm.

"I almost forgot!" She pulled two shining, silver slippers from the folds of her dress. "Here. These'll compliment your outfit perfectly. NOW you can go!"

Yellow carefully slipped on the shoes, surprised to find that they were made of...was that _glass?_

But Blue had already stepped back, muttering about incompetent apprentices and lousy magic work and how shoes were the most important part of any outfit, before Yellow could question her about her choice of footwear. The coach began to move forward before Yellow had even seated herself, and she plopped down heavily, taking a second to balance herself. Yet when she turned to give her thanks to her faerie godmother, she found nothing but a dusting of glitter coating the earth where Blue had just stood.

Yellow was alone again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long...(heh heh heh six months...). This story is actually going to be a three-shot, since it turned out a little longer than I expected. Please review, all comments are appreciated. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy Part 2!**

* * *

The palace stood in all of its glory, towers spiraling into oblivion, flags waving merrily atop every peak. It looked right out of a fairytale book. And Yellow was reminded once again that she did NOT live in a fairy tale.

 _He won't even look at you twice. Except to perhaps note how annoyed he is at always seeing you around..._

She released a shuddering breath and gingerly accepted the hand of one of the mice-turned-attendants, who helped her out of her seat in the pumpkin carriage.

 _Whoof. Deep breath, Yellow._

And then she was there, standing on the front steps of the royal palace of all places, preparing for the first ball in the entirety of her sixteen years.

Clamminess started to set in, and she knew her nerves were kicking into overtime, mind exploding with everything that could go wrong. Misty, her stepmother, the magic that wore off at midnight...

But she was here, and it was too late to turn back now. Not after all that she had been through to make it.

 _For just this one night, I can be more than just another poor country girl from the slums of the capital. For just this one night, I can pretend that I am more than just a stepping stone for Misty's success._

 _For tonight, I will be Yellow— short, but not helpless; quiet, but not afraid; obedient, but not to be controlled._

She stepped through the gates into what she could only hope was the night of her life.

"Your Highness, look..."

Prince Red of Kanto turned his head away from the conversation he had just been holding with the father of a young court lady, and followed everyone's gazes to the top of the ivory staircase leading into the ball room.

And there she was.

She descended the steps with the utmost care, too enraptured with the crowds and with the bright lights as to see anything past her own two feet, and her own two hands clasped in the folds of her skirt. This was it. She was here.

Yellow allowed herself a brief smile, eyes closing for the slightest of pauses as she imagined the kinds of wonders the night could hold. The food, the ballgowns, the quiet murmur and gossip of the gentry. And the dancing... Yellow loved dancing. She could barely remember the days when her father used to lead her out to the vegetable patch, and pick her up in his arms and swing her around and around, like he said the suitors did to their sweethearts.

"But you're not my suitor!" Yellow had laughed.

"I love you more than any suitor ever will, Amarillo. And they'd better know that!"

She shook out of her trance. Her father was not here, and she would honor his memory by dancing until her feet couldn't take another step.

She would honor the little girl she had once been by enjoying herself no matter who watched her.

And she would honor her faerie godmother by...

No.

 _Sorry Blue, she whispered, but I am_ NOT _going to "get him" like you asked._

But suddenly the staircase ended, and the room was wide and gloriously open in front of her, and...and _he_ was kneeling there. In front of her.

Hand extended. Eyes tilted up to meet hers.

The room had fallen dead silent. And Yellow was at a loss for words.

"My Lady," his voice was the fuzzy glow of sunset. "Will you do me the honor of sharing a dance?"

And she was once again falling. Falling falling falling into the endless abyss of his deep red eyes, never to be seen again. Disintegrating into a million sparks and butterflies that reminded her oh so much of that morning and the roses and the sunshine and...him.

He was asking her to dance.

 _This is what you came for, isn't it?_

Slowly, tentatively, as if the one tiny action might break her, Yellow placed one small, gloved hand into his.

The room was spinning and she couldn't quite catch her breath, but suddenly there was no more Misty, no more of her stepmother's screaming or the endless chores that seemed to fill up all of her days. There were no more crushed hopes or dashed fantasies, no more ratty skirts or broken-hearted blondie girls waiting for their dreams to come true.

 _Dance._

Prince Red led her onto the dance floor, ebony boots clicking an eery rhythm on the polished marble beneath them. The crowd around them parted, creating a pathway of faces that seemed to stretch on forever to either side. Yellow waited with bated breath for someone to start laughing, or jeering, and screaming in her ear that it was all just another one of her stepmother's cruel jokes meant to humiliate her and remind her just how small she was. And not just physically.

But her step-mother stood slightly to her left, hidden behind a lady with a ridiculous peacock hat and matching chiffon ballgown, face morphed into the picture of wonder and jealousy. Misty, ever the enchantress, had her perfect lips parted in ladylike disbelief. But...they didn't look like they recognized her. Odd.

Yellow barely had time to take them in before she was whisked forward into an elegant waltz, fingers clasped tightly in those of the Prince. A slow, melancholy tune drifted from the chamber orchestra, and perhaps it was just her imagination, but the candles seemed almost to dim. Her eyes wandered the people around her, nobility and even some royalty, all decked in lavish finery, all watching the peasant in princess heels twirling with their Prince. But, slowly, the music drove her audience forward, bright skirts and nimble feet once more lighting the palace ballroom. A crowd of dancers to join the pair. A weight lifted off of Yellow's chest.

"Eh...hem..."

The weight returned full force. She almost missed a step before a firm hand on her waist steadied her. Oh right. The Prince.

Heart hammering yet again, she lifted her gaze from the ballroom and met his ruby stare. _Like autumn leaves before the wind blew them away._ There were a thousand and one things she wanted to say to him, but her lips just couldn't quite seem to form the words.

"Ah...um...hi." _Ouch._ Yellow wanted to cringe. A thousand and one things, and _that_ was what came out?

But Red barely seemed to notice. His eyes remained steadily fixed on her, almost contemplative, as they twirled and fell apart and came together again. She lowered her head slightly. He was probably considering all of the thousands of faults that were obvious from a first glance at her. Not pretty enough, not confident enough, not regal enough. Definitely not tall enough...

"So, is this your first time at the palace?"

Yellow blinked. She was surprised he hadn't chosen to ask about her appearance, or her heritage. Huh. Her thoughts returned to his question when she realized he was waiting for a reply.

She gave a small nod "yes". _Of course it's my first time in the palace. You've seen what I wear on a daily basis- do I look rich enough to visit here regularly?_

Red's lips curved up into a grin. Almost...playful. "And how do you like it?"

This time, Yellow didn't need any time to sort out her thoughts. They came tumbling out of her mouth like a waterfall, spilling over each other in their haste to reach open air. "Like it? It's absolutely breathtaking! The candles, the staircases, the arches, and-...um..." Yellow blushed as she realized that she may have been a tad too eager. First slow to respond, now too forward... Red must think she was bipolar at this point. Or psycho. One or the other.

To her relief, all he did was laugh. A rich, brilliant sound that echoed in her ears and filled her with wonder from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Forget about the arches. That, by far, was the most breathtaking thing she had encountered all night.

If she had to leave right then and there, Yellow would have left with her evening complete.

Prince Red's chuckle faltered, however, when his gaze locked onto something over her shoulder. Yellow watched, oddly fascinated, as his features shifted from joy to frustration to...resignation. Was something...or someone...there? She didn't dare turn around, knowing that she would most likely miss a step if she did. The music had sped up while they were dancing, and she needed to concentrate on her feet or else she'd go tumbling down. She waited with bated breath as the circle of dancers spun, changing directions so that she was now in Red's old position.

And could see what he had been looking at.

Only, there was no one there. Dresses, ballroom, columns, mosaics, the thrones, the king... the King. He was staring straight at them. Yellow was too far away to read his face, but she could tell he wasn't smiling.

 _Oh._

Cheeks heating, she flicked her eyes back onto Red, who was now the one watching her. Her face must have been screaming discomfort, because his lips pursed slightly with displeasure. Then...there was something else in his expression. Slightly reckless, slightly excited, slightly afraid... He studied her for a moment.

"Come with me." Yellow nearly fell when he started to pull her, still in time with the waltz now playing, towards the edge of the ballroom floor. After a few short measures, they were at the edge of the crowd. Then they were out of it. Red stopped dancing, but still held onto her hand, and Yellow was too startled to speak.

 _What is going on?_

Red pulled her out of the ballroom, through an archway, and into a wide, ornate corridor that stretched on and on. Yellow stumbled after him, heels making no sound on the carpeted floor.

She knew that in these kinds of situations, a girl was supposed to start screaming for help, or to kick her abductor in the...you-know-where...and run. In fact, under normal circumstances, that was probably exactly what Yellow would have done. But...she didn't feel in danger. Rather, there was a sort of tension in the air, a good kind. Like the buzz before a lightning storm. A lightning storm she wanted nothing more than to be swept up in.

Besides, this was the Prince. What harm could possibly come to her?

Unless he was a sadistic rapist. Or a secret murderer. Or...

 _Stop it, Yellow. You're being ridiculous._

He was the Prince. This was a special circumstance. And, if anything did end up happening to her, it wasn't like there was anyone out there who would actually care.

A flight of stairs appeared at the end of the hallway. Yellow barely had time to take in the intricate carvings on the golden railings lining them before she was at the bottom, passing through an archway, feet no longer sinking into plush palace carpeting. She was outside.

Red pulled to a halt ahead of her, and only when he let go did Yellow realize that he had still been grasping her hand.

"This is my favorite part of the palace." He pointed ahead, towards what could only have been the most decadent garden Yellow had ever seen. "Growing up, I was never really given much freedom to do as I pleased. This garden was the closest thing I had to a playground, to friends, to, well, a childhood."

Yellow gazed around at the enormous flowers drooping from their stems, the insects flitting about despite the lack of sun, the willow trees lining a path made of pebbles smoother than glass. The air was sweet, like perfume, but not so much as to be overbearing and suffocating. It looked like a garden out of a fairytale. Moon dappled, peaceful, aglow with life. Paradise.

But, like the midnight mist hanging over lake water, the garden's magic seemed to burn away the longer she stared at it. The longer she let the words Red had spilled sink in.

Up until now, Yellow had never really considered what challenges might come with being, well, a prince. He was always the golden spark in the distance, the Lucky one, the boy loved and admired by an entire kingdom. He seemed to have it all.

But there was the King with his sharp eyes and his sharper disdain. The court ladies and gents with their gossip and jealousy. The expectation that his simple existence had to be good enough to satisfy hundreds, no, thousands of people he'd never personally met.

It was such a shame that fortune always came with a price.

The loveliness of her surroundings would have made any story illustration jealous. But all Yellow could picture was a lonely little boy walking along the rounded pebble pathway, aching from a burden men twice his size could never have lifted.

Yellow opened her mouth, but no words fell out. Sure, she should probably tell him she's sorry, or say something compassionate and witty like all of the princesses did in their stories, but she wasn't a Princess, and this wasn't a fairytale, and she was just a girl who honestly had no idea how to comfort a boy.

The silence dragged on as both figures stood staring into the depths of the greenery.

Finally, Yellow couldn't take it anymore. She turned to Red. "It's a beautiful garden, Your Highness. Thank you for...sh-showing me."

As if pulled from a stupor, Red shook his head, a few locks of dark hair falling across his brow. "I thought you might like it. And please, call me Red."

Yellow's heart skipped a beat, and suddenly the melancholy atmosphere vanished. _Red? Call me Red. CALL ME RED?!_

Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

This was good. This was amazing, beyond amazing, everything she could ever have dreamed of good.

First name terms meant interest, right?

But... Yellow could picture her face plastered over posters all across towns, mortified and humiliated, when Prince Red turned her down. Interest. It wouldn't last for long.

 _Stop thinking about it, Yellow! You're here to have fun. To enjoy yourself, if you even know what that means. Take a deep breath._

She breathed in and out very slowly.

 _Okay. Now turn to him and say something witty. Act as if his last phrase didn't_ _bother you at all._

Yellow tilted her lips up into what she hoped was a flirty grin and looked up at Pr-... Red.

And looked. And looked.

 _Say something!_

Red's face morphed into something of quizzical amusement.

"Umm, miss, are you okay?"

Yellow's face exploded into what she knew had to be an extremely unflattering shade of crimson, and she thanked her lucky stars it was dark out. So, no witty comments today...

 _Breathe in, breathe out._

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry." She turned back to the garden, cheeks still burning. "Can...Can we look around?"

"Oh! Of course, that's why I even brought you here. Please, feel free to go wherever you like." Red waved a hand towards the vast greenery in front of them, and Yellow reluctantly slipped her hand out of his in order to step forward. The cold air replacing his heat almost came as a shock to her fingers.

However, any remaining tingles were soon forgotten as the wonders of the garden ensnared her interest. Flowers of all shapes and sizes, small, large, pink, silver, flooded her vision. Some hung in waves from wooden structures, others seemed to sprout from seemingly nowhere. The hum of midnight insects created a tranquil atmosphere, and she felt as if she were walking in a hazy, barely formed dream. Sure, the garden was a place of sadness. But sadness always seemed to come in the beautiful form.

She could sense Prince Red following her at an arm's length, almost touching but not quite. Huh. Her, being followed by a Prince. This would make some story.

* * *

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, Yellow pulled to a stop in front of a gnarled willow tree. A lonely wooden swing hung from one of its wide branches, creaking softly in the warm breeze.

It looked like one of the paintings she'd done once upon a time.

"Um, you can sit down if you want..." Red tentatively stepped past her and grasped ropes attaching the swing seat to the willow branch, stilling what little motion was driving it. He gave her a small smile, and Yellow's breath hitched.

Creaky wooden swings and handsome princes to push them. She was living in a fairytale.

Taking care not to trip on any wayward roots, Yellow made her way to the small swing. She searched Red's gaze for a moment, wondering for the umpteenth time why there was no trace of malice there, no hint of disgust at what was obviously a peasant girl standing in front of him.

He was too kind. Too good. Too smart and brave and calm and _interesting_...

 _Why would he choose me?_

Yellow gathered her full skirts, grateful for an excuse to hide her trembling fingers as she pushed the fabric underneath her, sitting down on the swing. It gave a lonely creak before settling under her weight. Her hands found the two course ropes holding the swing up, and she marveled at how small her hands looked wrapped around the twine.

 _You're so small, Yellow. It would be a marvel if any man even deigned to view you as anything but a child!_

Her stepmother's voice rang in her ear, and Yellow's heart shrank just slightly. So small. Nothing but a child.

She tightened her grip on the rope. Small, childish, but she was the one sitting there alone with the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, and her stepmother was nowhere in sight.

 _Enjoy this, Yellow._

Suddenly, Yellow felt herself beginning to move, the silver of her ballgown whispering softly through the air. The swing let out a single groan of protest before giving in to motion, and a warm presence burned at Yellow's back. Red. His hands, so much larger than hers, gripped the ropes just above her head, pushing and pulling at them so that she swung gently back and forth.

Back and forth. Yellow had ridden swings before, when her father was still around to push her on them, and Misty wasn't there to push her off of them. She remembered that it was the closest she had ever felt to flying.

But this... Yellow knew that she was barely a foot off the ground, but somehow her heart and her soul seemed to exist high above the garden, the palace, the entire kingdom. It was as if someone had severed her spirit from her body, and she was floating far, far away, never to return to the pain of reality. Except that there was a tether holding her back- Prince Red. Like the string to her kite. An anchor.

For a moment, Yellow was positive that she was out of her mind. Her, simple, clueless Yellow, could not possibly be sitting in a swing with Prince Red of Kanto standing only inches behind her, pushing her, giving her a glimpse into his world. She could not possibly have met her fairy godmother and an assistant fairy god...father?..., or seen her old rags become the finest silver gown she'd ever laid eyes on, or waltzed for the first time in her life on a ballroom floor bursting with nobles. It was simply not possible.

A delirious giggle bubbled up to her throat, and suddenly she was laughing as if she was two years old again, and her father had tickled her with a feather until she was rolling on the ground.

The sound shattered the nighttime tranquility and filled the air with pure, unfiltered joy. Yellow laughed and laughed and laughed until she was nearly wheezing, doubled over on the now still swing and gripping the rope to her left as if her life depended on it.

"I-I-I'm so-sorry!" She gasped between breaths. "It's just...all s-so impossible!" Yellow forced herself to suppress her giggles, and turned her head around to look at him.

Red was smiling, a soft wonderstruck smile that made her think there was something on her face. No one had ever looked at her like that. Heart suddenly in her throat, the last of her joy ebbed away as time seemed to freeze the moment around her. Red's gaze burned into her, something akin to a conflict warring in his eyes. Confusion, anxiety, amusement...but...bright, as if his world had suddenly gone from black and white to bursting with color. And something a little darker...

"Umm, I beg your pardon...?" Yellow whispered the question into the still night air, suddenly aware of how close he was. If she reached up, she could touch his cheek.

Yellow's heart sped up further when he slowly leaned in towards her, stopping when they were only centimeters apart. _I could kiss him now if I really wanted to._.. His mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. The kind that girls across the kingdom dream about at night.

"You are the strangest, most beautiful thing I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, miss." A lock of hair fell into his forehead as he spoke, and Yellow resisted the urge to brush it away. Her. Strange. Beautiful. _Beautiful._ Her mind seemed to fog up, the words reverberating through her and repeating themselves again and again. _You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on._

She knew his declaration warranted a reply, but for some reason her tongue was frozen in her mouth.

 _Prince Red, thank you?_

 _Prince Red, that was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me in my entire life?_

 _Prince Red, you are the most beautiful thing in this world, not me?_

Red, I love you?

An abrasive, eery toll suddenly rang in the air, breaking the silence and snapping Yellow back from her daze. Oh no. The clock. Her fairy godmother.

Midnight.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys! This is the third installment of this story, and there is only ONE more to come after it (yay, almost done!). Also, I kinda sorta really lied in the first chapter about this being a two-shot story soooo...sorry?**

 **To anyone who was wondering whether or not the other dexholders will be appearing, the answer is, unfortunately, no. This is Specialshipping centric, and the original Cinderella fairytale didn't really have any characters beyond the ones I've already introduced, so the ones you've already met are it! I am thinking about doing other fairytale/Pokespe AUs with different shippings though, so if anyone has any suggestions that would be REALLY helpful!**

 **Please read and review (honestly, the reviews have been very encouraging, thanks so much :))), and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

DONG!

Yellow's head snapped towards the bell tower that protruded from a nearby church spire. In the dim lighting, the large brass bell that swung back and forth at it's peak seemed to suck her right in, as if taunting her.

 _Time's up, Little Miss Nobody. You knew it wouldn't last, remember?_

Gathering up her skirts, Yellow quickly extricated herself from the confines of the wooden swing, stumbling slightly in her haste

 _Deep breaths, Yellow. Act calm. Get out of the palace (although she wasn't quite sure she remembered the way), get in your carriage, and make it home before Stepmother and Misty. You can do it._

She took two steps forward, ready to run for her life, but a warm hand suddenly grasped her shoulder and forced her to turn around.

Right. The Prince.

His face was a mask of confusion, crimson eyes staring down at her in shock. "Um…are you leaving?"

She nodded mutely, hoping that he would read the urgency in her eyes and let her go. _Stupid stupid stupid! How could I lose track of time like that?_

However, Prince Red must have read something else from her face, because his expression morphed to... guilt? Frustration?

 _Fear_.

His next words came as a shock to her ears. "Did I do something to upset you, miss? Because I assure you it was never my intention to–"

Another peal of the bell shook the night air.

Yellow knew that the sudden disappearance act she was about to pull definitely warranted an explanation, that he deserved better than to be shook off and just left, but Yellow was running out of time. _Please, please forgive me!_

She shrugged out of his shoulder grip and backed towards the path they had just come from, hands splayed placatingly. "Please, Your Highness, nothing is your fault. I just remembered that I, uh, have to, um…go feed my dog! Yes, Chuchu must be getting hungry now, the poor dear hasn't eaten since…dinner…"

With that, she flashed what she hoped was a convincing apologetic smile and bolted. As she speed-walked back towards the palace corridor that Red had led her down, Yellow's mind raced.

She knew that Red wasn't going to buy her excuse for a second (really Yellow, your dog needs to be fed at midnight?), which meant that she had at most thirty more seconds before he started to come after her.

 _If_ _he comes after you, Yellow. After all, you just ditched him in a garden._

But some inner sense told her that Prince Red wouldn't be the kind of man who simply let an issue go unsolved. He would follow her, if for no other reason than to ask her if she had had a good time or something like that.

Her feet picked up their pace as she entered the palace again, slippers sinking slightly into the lush carpet floor. She could hear the din of the ballroom in the distance, could see the lights coming from its open archway only a couple hundred feet away. Once she was there, she could lose Red in the crowd, make her way to the exit, leave inconspicuously.

The clock chimed for the fourth time.

 _Stepmother and Misty would probably leave the ball with the last of the guests, so I should be home before they even start to head back…_

"Wait! Come back!" Crap. Red was following sooner than she had been hoping. His shout from behind was accompanied by the muffle of footsteps behind her. Yellow knew that, with his long legs, he would catch up to her within seconds.

Not even daring to peek back, she began to sprint full out for the ballroom. Even though it hurt in her shoes, she would definitely prefer having a couple of blisters to being caught magicless in front of the entire population of the Prince's guests. _Into the ballroom, out the doors, get home. In, out, home. In, out–_

"Please, I'm sorry if I did anything to offend you. We can talk it out!" He sounded closer than ever. Yellow bolted into the ballroom, slamming into twirling couples left and right as she weaved through the crowd, eyes scanning desperately for the exit.

The sixth peal rang out. _DONG! Better hurry, Yellow!_

Her gaze lighted on the double doors that marked the entrance to the palace ballroom. There! Almost tripping when a lady's long ballgown got caught underneath her left foot, Yellow scrambled as fast as she could in the direction of the doors. _Come. On!_

She felt a hand grasp her forearm. She shook it off before it's owner could get a tight grip. _Go go go!_

Peal number seven broke through the clutter of music and chatter and organized chaos.

Well, _dis_ -organized chaos now, since that she had plowed her way through everyone.

Yellow could feel the breeze flowing in from the front doors, smell the fresh night air, almost taste the victory of getting away and home without anyone noticing a thing. Adrenaline shot through her body, pushing her to her limits as she flashed through between surprised doormen and various exiting guests. She flew out of the confines of the palace.

"Somebody stop her!" Yellow's jubilation vanished as quickly as it came. Suddenly the immobile doormen and the innocent guests she had just passed were reaching out greedy fingers, seeking to snatch up bits and pieces of her gown, her hair, her limbs, as if she were a treat from a candy store.

She dodged them all, thankful for once that she had had so much practice weaving through people in the town marketplace, and sped, gown and hair streaming behind her, for the wide steps that led from the palace entrance to the carriage parking area.

As she ran, she could hear guards and servants alike shouting at one another to grab her, stop her, control her. Some of them were even calling her thief, most likely thinking she had stole something of value from the royal family.

 _Ha. The only thing I might have even come close to stealing was the Prince, and the chances that had of happening were very, very slim._

The commotion inside the palace behind her also grew, mirroring that of the chaos outdoors. Murmering crescendoed to a roar as party guests began whispering and craning their necks, wanting to catch a glimpse of the runaway, the "thief", the lady who was stumbling so un-ladylike down the palace front steps, and, god forbid, _AWAY_ from the Prince.

Hiking her skirts up almost to her knees, Yellow cursed the fact that silver slippers and stone staircases didn't mix. Add the fact that she barely even see her own feet beneath her dress, and that she was pretty accident-prone, and it was a recipe for disaster.

 _C'mon c'mon c'mon!_ She willed herself to move faster, although treading carefully at high speeds was an anomaly she was pretty sure no human was capable of. Body turned almost sideways so that she could sort-of see where she was going, Yellow cleared the first flight of marble steps with an audible sigh of relief.

"There!" The palace guards, with their sturdy boots and practical black suit pants, bounded down two steps at a time behind her.

Yellow knew that she would have to throw caution to the wind if she was even to have a shot at escape.

DONG! Toll number ten.

Bracing herself for impact, she half-slid, half-ran down the second and final set of steps. However, just as she almost reached the bottom, Yellow felt her balance give out. Her left foot slid viciously, the sparkling heel of her shoe squealing against the smooth step, until she was forced to kick it off to avoid twisting her ankle.

 _Sorry Blue. I'll pay you back someday._

With one bare foot and one still stuck inside a slipper, Yellow cleared the final landing of stairs and began to hobble as fast as she could towards her pumpkin carriage. Already it was beginning to look more orange than gold, and she could see that the mice attendants had begun to sprout tails again. _Just a little longer, magic. Hold out just a little longer!_

She reached her carriage just as Prince Red arrived at the bottom of the staircase. Yellow allowed herself one glance back, one more peek at the man whose attention she had spent days and weeks and months dreaming about, whose attention she was now giving up, and fell apart at the torn, hurt look on his face.

"Please," his shout came across as a whisper to her ears. "I don't even know your name."

She didn't know if it was the lighting or the misting of her eyes, but everything seemed to shine around him for a second. A flash of gold, highlighting his figure and the marble stone beneath his feet, the glow of the palace behind him and the plea written across his face.

 _Stay._

She flashed him a weak smile, hoping that the one look would be enough to tell him everything, before clambering into her carriage and driving away.

No longer the princess in the golden gown and the golden shoes with the golden Prince. She was the girl in rags and tatters once more, slum of the slums, and nobody worth knowing now that the magic had slid away.

A tear slid down her cheek– from sadness, shock, adrenaline, she couldn't even tell. All she knew was that from the moment she had met him on that fateful day to the moment she was living right now, Prince Red had somehow managed to make her fall in love and forced her to fall out of it without even saying a hundred words to her.

 _I'm sorry Red. You deserve a lot better than a poor country girl messing around with magic and miracles and a childish daydream of someday being yours. It might have been best if I hadn't even come tonight, just to spare you the embarrassment of being adored and then left. I hope that someday you find a girl who is just as brave and smart and funny and special as you are– someone who doesn't need a faerie godmother to help her steal your heart._

 _Thanks for tonight though. It might not have been anything out of the ordinary for you, but it was by far the best night of my life. I'm not used to Princes and gardens and swings and ballrooms, and even though I'll never see any of those again, I hope you know that I will never forget them. And that I will never forget you._

* * *

The magic wore off completely one hundred feet past the palace gates. Yellow had watched, detached, as the mice scampered away and bright orange pumpkin filling spattered all over the side of the road. Thankfully, she had managed to leap out of her carriage just in time to avoid being crushed, but the long, five mile walk home had not been a pleasant one.

She arrived at her home an hour and a half later, soaked with pumpkin innards and weak from the night's ordeal. Her stepmother and Misty were bound to arrive home in minutes, and they would demand tea or a bath or some other luxury Yellow could only dream of. Her life would go back to the way it always had been.

But, stepping over the threshold of the quaint cottage, and finding herself once again surrounded by the normality and ordinariness of it all, Yellow's nerves finally began to wear out. The magical evening she had just experienced, juxtaposed against the plain, homely setting she had known all her life, made her time with Prince Red seem…unbelievable. Unrealistic.

 _Impossible_.

 _I have done the impossible._

She stood still for a moment, basking in the hysteria of it all, the fact that her, an orphan servant girl, a wallflower, a nobody, had just waltzed into the royal ball and stolen the attention of the royal Prince for an entire evening. Her. Plain, simple, innocent Yellow of the Viridian Forest. The recollection of it all made her so giddy that a giggle, of all things, bubbled up from the depths of her throat.

It blossomed into a breathy laugh, which had her doubled over with the reservoir of emotion she had pent up for so long spilling out of her like a burst dam. She laughed and laughed and laughed until tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and snorts flew between gasps.

 _Impossible. I was spirited away by a faerie godmother to a royal ball where I danced with the Prince, and then spent the rest of the evening walking with him through a garden. A god-damn, realer than real, romantic walk through a garden! I sat in a wooden swing in said garden, was called_ _beautiful_ _by said Prince, and then ran through the entire freaking palace to DITCH him._

 _I have done the impossible._

She knew she was wasting precious minutes by simply standing there and giggling like a lunatic, but she couldn't help it. The shock of the evening and the adrenaline that had been rushing in and out of her all night were finally taking their toll.

Vaguely, she recalled that she had lost one of the slippers given to her by her faerie godmother. Looking down, she realized that the other one, miraculously, was still snugly surrounding her right foot. The thought that the shoes had just been regular shoes, not magical ones, flashed through her head, somehow rattling her even more and causing another bout of laughter to rack her frame.

 _I am insane and crazy and out of my mind. I am so messed up that I am standing here dying of laughter because I just lost a precious, probably valuable, shoe that I could probably have sold for a lot of money, which is not funny_ _at all_ _. Also, my stepmother could literally come home and see me like this in seconds. I seriously belong in an insane asylum._

When she finally caught her breath, Yellow's mind was empty of everything. Her limbs shook, her knees seemed to wobble as they supported her frame, and her eyes watered as if she had just been crying.

Weariness also settled over her like a blanket of peace, flooding her bones like a tidal wave. The nighttime sounds slowly ebbed their way into her head, the blend of cricket chirps and owl hoots and rustling branches forming a comforting background of white noise for her thoughts.

 _All this time I've been dreaming about Prince Red– about talking to him and laughing with him and feeling the tingle that comes when I meet his gaze again and again and again…and…it actually happened._

 _For one blissful, beautiful, impossible moment, he was…mine._

 _For. One. Moment._

And suddenly the full weight of her situation began to dawn once more.

It was over.

Her wondrous, fantastical, fairy-tale dream had finally reached its end. This one night, one spell, one miracle, was all that she was going to get for the rest of her life. She was going to grow up poor and scorned, going to move out of her Stepmother's house one day and somehow make it on her own, going to live the life of just one more insignificant peasant.

Going to be just one more girl among the thousands who had once upon a time been in love with Prince Red.

There would be no more magic, no more faerie-godmothers and rich dresses and parties in the palace. There would be no more… anything.

And Prince Red…

God, Prince Red.

She would live out the rest of her life truly knowing that she would never see him again. No more girlish hopes, or accidental encounters, or sparks of eye contact that left her reeling and praying for more. No more dancing or gardens; no more heart-racing happiness or smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, or thinking "god, how can I ever get enough of him?".

Because the only thing racing through her head now was "god, how will I ever get over him?"

The red string of fate that had tied her life with his had severed when the clock struck midnight. And all she was left with was a sadness so deep it throbbed with every rattling breath she took.

* * *

When her stepmother and Misty got home, they demanded tea, a bath, and for their ballgowns to be unsown from their backs and gently hung up in their closets. Yellow did the tasks with a detached air, as if her hands were going through the motions but her brain didn't seem to pick up on any of it. She was positive that Misty and her stepmother would not even suspect her as the mystery girl. After all, she was dressed in rags, dirty, and nothing more than a servant to them.

And according to the rulebooks, servants did not attract princes.

But it did hurt to listen to them discuss it, to hear their opinions on which of the rich daughters of the town had been "the one", which girls they knew had the most matching features to the Prince's princess. They knew she had blonde hair. They knew she had been wearing a silver gown, and was petite. And they also knew that she stood in their way of getting Prince Red themselves.

Even though she tried to hide it, Yellow could tell that Misty was upset at not being chosen by Red. Could see the sadness, frustration, anguish in her stepsister's eyes. Could see the jealousy that also twitched across her features whenever Stepmother called the mystery girl "beautiful", or "graceful", or "princess".

But her stepmother also didn't give those descriptions as compliments. Yellow knew that her stepmother would stop at nothing to marry her only daughter into wealth; to leave Misty well-off and, consequently, be well-off herself. And who was a greater catch than the Prince?

After tending to them and being dismissed, Yellow hid upstairs in her attic bedroom and listened to their disgusted chatter, their bitter envy, their ill-intentioned gossip. All of it targeted towards her.

Somehow, their fury only emboldened her own sense of accomplishment. _For once, I am the one who has something they don't._

She fell asleep with the satisfying burn of revenge coursing through her veins, but the bittersweet weight of its accompanying sadness tearing at her heart.

* * *

The buzz lasted for weeks. In the house, all Misty and her stepmother would discuss was their mystery girl dressed in the gossamer gown and the silver slippers, and what she could have possibly done to get ahead in the game of courtship. In the streets, ladies chattered about who "she" was outside of their window shops, fanning themselves with feathered fans and wrinkling their noses at the idea of Prince Red choosing a girl who wasn't their daughters. Yellow found an almost giddy pleasure in listening to the gossip, the rush that came with having a secret no one in the world knew but everyone needed to know making her feel like a hidden celebrity, of sorts.

Except her kind of celebrity, her kind of fame, was the kind that would never make fortunes or fans or fake-happiness. Because beneath it all lay the fear that if she were discovered, she would be hunted, mocked, abused, abandoned. The headlines would read "Peasant Girl Found to Have Bewitched Prince" or "A Nobody Thought She Had a Chance At Being a Princess".

But she knew that the person who would pay the most if her secret ever got out was not her, but Prince Red. She could already imagine the ridicule he would receive for having been "fooled" into falling for a girl like Yellow. Could imagine the disdainful look that the king had given them in the ballroom magnified into thoughts and words and actions. Could almost see and hear and taste the poison that her identity would bring to his reputation if anyone, anyone at all, ever found out.

Hell, even Prince Red could never, ever, know.

So, in the confines of her room and the secrecy of her meadow and by the embers of the fireside, the words _it's over, it's over, IT IS OVER_ flashed again and again and again and again and again in her head– a never-ending mantra reminding her that her little "tryst" must be forgotten by everyone, even her, as soon as possible (even though it hurt like hell every time she even imagined forgetting her night at the ball).

But the less people wondering who "she" was, the lower the chances Yellow had of being found out.

 _It'll blow over in a month, at most. And then, you can live your life in peace again._

Or, somewhat-peace. Yellow knew that while gossip passed quickly, the pain of heartbreak would probably take at least another year. First, the novelty of the entire affair needed to evaporate like mist on a hot summer day. One month. Second, Yellow had to cut him out of her life entirely– no more sneaking around when he gave speeches in the town square, no more hiding in the woods hoping he might come hunting, and, of course, no more balls. Half a year. Finally, when she had been apart from him for so long that she could barely remember what he looked like (she knew that she would probably never be able to cut his image out of her mind, but trying to convince herself she someday would helped), she would stop thinking about him, little by little, until closure was the only thing she knew. That might take a lifetime.

But it would work. It had to work.

Because it had been less than one week since she been with him on that night and already the pain was unbearable. She didn't even know what pain it was– pain of being apart, pain of reliving their moments again and again, pain of knowing that there shouldn't even be a "pain of separation" or "pain of memory"…

It just…hurt. Like being stabbed by a tiny knife again and again and again and not being allowed to cry because she was the one holding the handle.

So she tried to convince herself that she shouldn't even be feeling upset, that her entire "thing" with Red had literally been like a one-night stand, that most girls her age wouldn't even give a damn about a man they had spent less than three hours with.

Sure, he was the Prince, and he was smart and funny and handsome and gorgeous and–

 _UHHHH!_ Yellow wanted to tear her hair out in frustration.

 _One_ _month_ , she told herself. _In one month, all of this will blow over and you can start your master plan for forgetting and healing. One month._

She spent following weeks as if nothing had ever happened. She cleaned the house and did the chores everyone else neglected, ran errands in the streets for her stepmother, ran away to the meadow whenever she felt lost or lonely or overwhelmed (which was a lot these days).

She hid the slipper that had remained, the only proof that her night at the ball had been real, inside a beautiful wooden treasure box that her father had given her for her fourth birthday– one of the only real possessions she owned. On days when everything seemed to be going downhill, she would open it up and stare at the slipper, at the intricate patterns of glitter etched onto its surface and the soft velvet that lined the inside, and lose herself in the memories that came with it.

 _You're doing well,_ she would tell herself on days when it hurt the most. _You haven't cried once since the night of the ball, and neither stepmother nor Misty nor any of the townsfolk suspect a thing. You will make it._

When the gossip began to die down just a bit, she even allowed herself to feel hope again.

But then, on a Thursday afternoon out in the pouring streets of the marketplace, three weeks after the ball catastrophe, Yellow heard the trumpets blare twice for a royal announcement. Heard that the Prince was calling for a search, of all things, for his "missing princess". That he was using her slipper, the one that she had dropped on the palace steps (she'd all but forgotten about it up until that point), as a guide. That the girl's foot who fit the shoe would, would… _marry_ him _._

Marry. Prince Red. _Princess_.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! IT'S FINALLY DONE! I spent probably the most time on this last chapter, which you can probably tell since it's signficantly longer than the others (heh heh heh -_-). Anyways, thank you all so much for following and sticking with this story, even though it's taken me way too much time to complete. Also, anyone who reviewed seriously deserves cookies (real ones, preferably with lots of chocolate and sugar) because your kind words were part of what motivated me to put this out as soon as I could :). It's really been a learning experience for me, and I hope to write more fanfics like this one in the future, so stay tuned! As I stated previously, I may continue along the Pokespe Fairytale theme, and do a couple more with different ships.**

 **But enough talk. Read and review, and enjoy! Oh, and HAPPY 2018!**

* * *

The next week passed in a blur. Countless stories of girls trying on the shoe and failing to fit, or of girls spinning excuses about enlarged toes or heels that had shrunk since the night of the ball, or of girls even attempting to reshape their own feet to match the slipper were all the townspeople would discuss. Yellow walked through it all, a whisper, silently considering (and berating) the fact that, out of ALL OF THE GIRLS IN THE KINGDOM, not a SINGLE ONE had the same shoe size as her.

She literally had no idea how that was possible. Yellow bought shoes from the marketplace. Ones that other girls probably also bought and wore. And they had her size available at almost every shoe store she'd visited (not that she often went out to buy shoes, but the point was that her shoe size was pretty common). It was either all of the girls the royal commissioners (yes, Prince Red had actually assigned a royal commission to stuff a shoe onto girls' feet) had encountered so far just had hideously disfigured feet, or the shoe was magic.

Yellow was betting on the latter.

 _Why, Blue, WHY?!_

As soon as she'd heard the announcement, Yellow had hoped that she would be able to take the easy way out of her mess of a situation with Prince Red– the easy way being that a pretty, rich, and delightful young lady would try on the shoe, have it fit perfectly, and then go off and marry the Prince. It would be so simple– no embarrassment for Red, no shameful reputation for Yellow, and, as a bonus, there would be a romantic happily-ever-after tale for the kingdom to recount for ages.

But as the days wore on, and no young lady came forth with a foot just the right size for the shoe, Yellow's heart and hopes slowly sank into the ground. The blasted slipper wasn't going to fit some other foot. There wasn't going to be some other girl. And the entire situation was only going to end in pain, and ache, and cold, cold loneliness.

She had been standing in the tiny garden before her stepmother's house, broom in hand as she swept the front steps, when she realized that the only way this was ending was with a blow up in her face.

Because at some point Prince Red was either going to find her and realize he didn't want her, or never find a Princess at all.

She didn't know which one she preferred.

 _If I see him again, there will be no ballgowns or pumpkin carriages or moonlit wonder. No facades or masks or magic. He'll no the how big of a mistake this affair has been, turn me down faster than he decided to come looking for me, and live the rest of his life with the embarrassment of having almost chosen… me._

But on the other hand, it would be just as awful if he didn't find someone at all. Yellow didn't know how much pressure there was on him to find a princess and marry, but considering his age and how close he was to inheriting the throne, she knew that a queen would be demanded of him soon. And royal customs were strict– this silly shoe-doddle would most likely be the only attempt he would ever have at marrying for love or even just basic attraction, rather than advantage.

Which meant that having to give up on this Princess search would be devastating for Red.

 _Perhaps he'll find someone, even if they don't fit the shoe. Perhaps he'll meet a girl so charming and beautiful and perfect that he'll take her even though she isn't me. That would be good. That would be really, really good._

He would give up on her. He had to give up on her. It would make everything better if he just settled down with a nice girl and left Yellow far, far behind.

But the entire thing was basically out of her hands at this point. The search and the choosing of a Princess was all up to Red. The only thing she could do was pray that he came to his senses and got married to someone acceptable before any real scandal could occur.

 _Blue, if you're listening at all, any help in pushing Red down that path would be appreciated!_

Yellow finished up with her routine cleaning of the garden. It was starting to getting dark, and she didn't really like being out when the sun set. The night atmosphere often felt suffocating, especially when her mood was so grim. And Stepmother always got upset when Yellow didn't get in to make dinner soon enough.

As she stowed her broom in its usual place at the side of the house, however, Yellow's ears picked up on a faint sound coming from the direction of the town center. Unusual, since their part of the country was always dead silent at this evening hour. She peered down the road stretching in front of the porch. In the fading light, her eyes landed on a shape clattering down the dirt path. It appeared to be a horse drawn carriage. But even the growing darkness couldn't hide the way the last of the sun's rays glittered off of the roof of the cart. Gold. Silver.

It wasn't just any courier vehicle or traveling caravan. It was a royal carriage. And, as Yellow watched, it stopped in front of a house only three doors down from hers. A guard stepped out. An older, distinguished gentleman followed. And, behind both of them…

Prince Red.

She'd recognize him anywhere; the dark hair, set jawline, lean, laid back form the only sign of his youth. It was with a sinking heart and distanced, wry expression painted on her face that she watched him. He was so, so beautiful.

And so, so, so impossibly far away.

Yellow knew that she should hide. Run, or clamber into the cellar, or bolt for the backdoor and fly as fast as her feet would carry her into the woods, the meadow, the rest of the world. Create a barrier of miles so sturdy that the glorious, inevitable, devastating mistake of a boy standing before her eyes would never, ever catch up to her.

But, of course, like the weakling she was, Yellow couldn't move.

She stood there, watching the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he brushed the hair back from his forehead in that offhanded way of his, and wished on all the stars in the galaxy that he could somehow be hers.

A small, infinitesimal part of her wondered. Wondered what would happen if, against all reason, he chose her. If he slipped the shoe onto her foot and realized that she was the one, the only, the girl he had laughed with and talked with and hurt with and, of course, inexplicably fallen in love with. If he took her back to his palace and married her and chose to be with her for the rest of their days.

Because that was how fairytales went.

He always chose her.

But this wasn't a fairytale, because suddenly her Stepmother was there, dragging her through the front door and into the living room and shoving her onto the couch and opening a box resting on the table and- oh, it was her father's treasure box because a beautiful silver slipper was sitting so still in Stepmother's hand and Stepmother was shouting about liars and princesses and how wretched girls like Yellow had no right to anything as beautiful as that red-eyed boy–

And then Yellow was sitting in the cellar, arms tightly wrapped around her knees while the wooden door leading to the rest of the house slammed above her. The cold, damp air around her seeped into her skin, her muscles, her bones, smelling like mildew and wood and shadowy earth. It was a mix that tasted like bitterness and broken hopes.

Yellow knew that she'd been stupid. Not hiding her treasure box well enough, standing in the garden gaping at Prince Red like a fool in the direct view of her family, leaving her soul bare to fall in love for even a millisecond because, just as the sun rose and fell every day, she was destined to never find happiness.

It was simply the way the world worked.

She should have known better than to try and fight against it.

The sense of anguish Yellow had felt at seeing Prince Red just moments before, at having him so close within her grasp, gradually faded away. Harsh, unforgiving resignation took its place. Red would be the final, and only, boy who would bring down her defenses. She wouldn't be so weak as to give away her heart ever again. This first experience had been too tiring, too torn up, too battering to repeat.

 _Everything would have been better if I'd just never met him in the first place._ The thought rose up like bitter bile in her throat.

A part of her hated Prince Red for all of it, hated his smile and his words and the way his eyes lit up when something amused him… hated him because it was his fault he was just so incredibly, unfairly _easy_ to fall in love with. She hated ever watching him, ever talking with him, ever letting him slip his way past her walls of stone and pull at her in a way that felt so natural, so right that she couldn't pull away.

How cruel it was that out of all the girls in the kingdom, she, the one with the smallest chance of having him, had to be the one who fell for him the hardest.

Upstairs, the front door opened. The sound of voices– male– and giggles– Misty. Boots tromped over polished wood.

Prince Red. The entourage was here.

After several moments of chatter, with Stepmother's shrill voice slicing through the ear like a knife, things quieted down a little. Even from a floor below, Yellow sensed the exact moment when Misty sat down on Stepmother's prized floral couch to await her verdict. Felt the tension in the air when the silver slipper was presented. Heard the heavy silence when the shoe did not fit.

Stepmother was making excuses now. Saying that Misty's foot must have grown in the time between the ball and now, everyone knew how teenage girls were. Pleading that Misty was obviously the princess Red was seeking, because how could she not be? She, with her shiny hair and lovely eyes and dignified manner?

As if following along with a storybook, Yellow knew that this was the moment where Red was supposed to cut his losses and just tell Misty yes. To realize how slim his chances were of finding his mystery girl, and that the happily ever after to his story would perhaps come easiest if he simply accepted the gorgeous, cerulean-eyed beauty in front of him and made her his Queen.

 _Please, Red, just tell her yes. It would be for the best. Stepmother would be happy, Misty would be happy, the entire kingdom would be so, so happy._

 _You wouldn't be happy…_ Yellow angrily thrust wherever that voice had come from back into the depths of her mind. It had sounded strangely like Blue…

After all, her happiness had pretty much stopped mattering the second she was thrust against her will into the cellar of her own home. And besides- the joy of one insignificant peasant girl was nothing compared to the welfare of an entire kingdom.

So Yellow waited with bated breath for Red to tell Misty yes, for the future of Kanto to be changed with one single word, for the fanfare and the glory and the pain and the heartache to begin and-

"Are there any other maidens residing in your home?"

…what? He… he turned her down. Prince Red turned Misty down because-

 _Because he still wants me._

A flicker of hope. Would he find her? It was highly unlikely, but not impossible, and surely-

 _No. Don't even consider it, Yellow. He won't find you, he won't choose you, he doesn't even know who you are. Hoping means you're only going to end up hurting more._

She heard Stepmother inform the royal entourage in a sugary sweet voice that no, of course there were no other maidens in the house. Felt the vibrations as boots stomped back to the front entrance. Waited for the door to slam shut behind not only the Prince and his crew but on The Story of Yellow and Red when suddenly…

Suddenly Prince Red was exclaiming about something. There was…

The silver slipper. In the treasure box. That Stepmother must have mistakenly left out on the living room table in her haste to shove Yellow into the cellar.

Fear, anxiety, excitement, and an overwhelming swell of hope nearly rushed through Yellow. He might actually find her. Prince Red, beautiful and charming and the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, might actually end up finding her.

In the cellar of a country home. Dressed in rags. Most likely with dirt and mud on her face. Smelling like the outdoors and work and poverty.

 _Oh god._

Yellow scrambled to her feet, rapidly brushing down her skirts and finger-combing through her ponytail. At least she'd had enough of a brain to run a brush through it this morning, although that hadn't seemed to work very well considering there were still several knots. Hurriedly untangling the knots, she proceeded to rub at her cheeks with her palms to smear away potential dirt splotches when the door to the cellar was suddenly flung open.

Yellow squinted at the intrusion of light. Loud, thumping footsteps echoed down the narrow stairwell above her. She could just make out the silhouette of a person standing at the top. Not quite tall enough to be Prince Red, but still masculine in stature. It was most likely the older gentleman who she had seen accompanying him to the house before theirs. _Perhaps an advisor of some sort_ , she thought offhandedly.

Her breath hitched, however, when the advisor reached the bottom of the steps. When his eyes shrewdly scanned the cramped quarters in front of him. When his gaze lighted on her, a lone figurine cloaked in shadow and dust and cobwebs. She almost smiled at the double take he took upon noticing her presence.

Because of course, of course he wasn't expecting there to be a girl hidden down here, dressed in rags and shivering from the dampness around her. Of course he hadn't wasn't seeking to discover someone actually hidden away in this innocent country cottage with the adoring two women. Of course not.

A frown creased his features, something Yellow barely made out in the poor light, and she realized with interest that this man, whoever he was, did not like her. Or, to be more specific, he did not like the idea of her. The idea that there was yet another maiden in this house for Prince Red to foolishly stuff into a shoe.

 _He does not approve of the search._

Yellow watched, rather than felt him reach out and clamp his hand around her arm. Moved as if in a trance when he pulled her up the stairs after him, eager to get this over with and prove that she, dirty and frail, was not the mystery princess. Stopped breathing altogether when her feet stumbled into the sunset softened living room and there, standing right before her, was Red.

His features contorted into shock at her sudden appearance. Then concern. Then…recognition.

Yellow panicked for a second, afraid that he was going to outright tell the world that she had been the girl he'd danced with at the ball. But then she remembered that he had seen her other times before, at the marketplace and in the forest.

Of course. He knew her as that girl, the one in the ratty clothes with the bewildered look who he just seemed to keep running into.

Yellow scanned the room around her, taking in the shocked expression on Misty's face (the other girl had probably not even realized Yellow was in the house) and the fury etched onto Stepmother's features, knowing that the next couple of minutes would be the most important of her life. This was it. The moment of truth, where all of her mistakes and her dreams boiled over into one big, crushing resolution. She would either be made or be broken, and even now she wasn't really sure which one she would prefer.

She would never be fit to be a Princess. But she also did not want to rot under Stepmother's iron fist for the rest of eternity.

Yellow suddenly wanted to sit down, feeling a slight bit nauseous. Because now, now that everything had come to a peak and he was right there in front of her, eyes wide and confused and… _hopeful_ , Yellow didn't know if she could do it. If she could sit down and place that slipper on her foot and have it fit and be brought back to the palace and crowned queen and of course end up the laughingstock of the kingdom because she wasn't qualified to rule and-

She would prove a disappointment and embarrassment to Prince Red. And Yellow had learned long ago, when her father had died, that the only thing more painful than not ever being able to love someone would be to love them and then to lose them-

"Miss, are you alright?"

Yellow almost jumped out of her skin. Right. The slipper. The search. They were all waiting. She had just been standing there staring stupidly straight ahead. She realized that it had been Red's voice breaking her out of her reverie, warm and reassuring and understanding as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking about.

 _Oh, Red. You deserve so much better than me_.

 _And you deserve better than having to wait another eternity for me to try on the shoe and just get everything over with._ Yellow swallowed her unease and lifted her chin.

With a resigned sort of calm, she slowly made her way over to the floral couch Misty that had most likely occupied only moments before and sat down, ignoring the torn edges of her skirt or the way the guards looked on in amusement or how heavy the silence around her seemed to be.

 _Just put on the shoe, Yellow. Just put it on, and worry about the rest later._

But, of course, as soon as Yellow had started to remove the worn slipper currently covering her foot, Stepmother's voice cut through the air in protest. "This is ridiculous! Yellow is our maidservant, clearly not considered one of the 'eligible ladies' your highness has limited his search to. Why, she wasn't even at the ball! She was at home, cleaning like she usually does, and if you would only look at Misty she is your mystery girl-"

Yellow was pulled up from the couch, roughly manhandled, and dragged across the floor towards the cellar. She didn't struggle. No use creating more of a fuss. She knew with certainty that decision of whether or not she would stay was not hers to make.

 _Red, do you want me?_

She was moving past the couch. Red's advisor was heatedly speaking to him.

She was approaching the cellar door. Red seemed to have stopped listening to the man beside him.

Her feet slid across the cellar threshold.

"Stop."

Stepmother froze, her grip on Yellow loosening just a fraction. Red was stepping forward now, his face contorted into a scowl. The words he uttered next were just as unfriendly.

"Please release the girl. She has just as much a right to try the shoe as any other young lady in the kingdom. Your treatment of her is atrocious."

Yellow was dropped to the floor in a heap, Stepmother's mouth already moving at lightning speed, placating the Prince, making excuses for the manhandling of Yellow, talking up Misty yet again-

Oh, to hell with it all. Yellow was sick of her Stepmother and her endless torrent of talk. If the lady thought she could make herself better by simply say she was better, than she would someday learn the hard way that good character took more than bluff. Yellow was done with her. Pulling herself up from the floor, Yellow brushed past the woman who had ruled over her for the last half of her life without sparing her a look.

Stepmother called after her. "Young lady, I haven't yet given you permission to-"

Yellow ignored her completely. Even if she came out of this affair brokenhearted and far worse for wear, at least she would have the satisfaction of knowing she had stood up to her stepmother for the first time in her life. Buoyed with that confidence, Yellow strode over to to the couch, yanked off the worn slipper currently on her foot and held her hand out for the silver one.

Surprised by her forwardness, Prince Red's advisor did not utter a word before handing it to her.

Yellow took it gingerly, fingers tingling at the spark of magic she could already feel coming from the object. It was hard to believe nobody else had realized the slipper wasn't normal. A slow warmth leaked from the points where her skin touched the glittering surface of the shoe all throughout the rest of her body. A sense of comfort flowed with it. As if the creator of the magic itself were standing right there next to Yellow, holding her hand, whispering that everything would be alright.

 _Go for it, Yellow. Just this once, have some faith in yourself. I believe in you._ Blue's voice.

Yellow's eyes met Prince Red's from where he was standing across the room, watching her. In his features, she was startled to find just how much of herself she saw mirrored back to her. There was that touch of pain in his expression, of having gone through too much for his young age, that glint of wonder and curiosity, and that all-encompassing, heavy loneliness that Yellow had only ever really known in herself before. Kindred spirits. That's what they were.

Kind of funny how that worked out when they couldn't be further apart in social class.

Gaze never leaving his, Yellow opened her mouth and whispered the three words that she probably should have said a long, long time ago, back on that day when she had first stared up at his frame in the dim lighting of that perfume shop and allowed herself to drown in the way he looked at her. Back in that flower meadow with the wind whipping through her hair when she'd first realized just how _horribly_ this story was going to end and didn't tell him. Back at the ball, when she'd known that paper girls drawn up in roses were never supposed to fall in love, and let herself fall for him anyways.

"I'm sorry, Red."

Yellow placed the slipper on the floor. Took a breath. Slipped her foot daintily into the lining. Watched as it inevitably slid into the shoe. A perfect fit. Such an insignificant little action it was quite ironic how much it meant.

Red's gaze met Yellow's once again from across the room. There was shock, wonder, excitement, certainty written all over his features. And there was that spark– the crackle of adventure and anticipation and hope that she had seen in his eyes every time he'd looked at her before. It was the thing that had probably drawn her to him in the first place, now that she thought back on it; the feeling he gave her that everything was going to be just fine as long as he was there. As long as they were together.

Except there might not be a "together", because now Red's advisor was raising his voice and Stepmother was screaming right beside him and Misty looked like she wanted to cry and Red…

Red wouldn't stop staring at her.

Yellow waited for him to turn away. To agree with all of the protests echoing around them and take the easy route out; the one that pretended he had never seen her or felt anything towards her to begin with, and allowed him to move on with his life.

 _Look away, Red. No one would blame you for not choosing me._

But the funny, and bittersweet, and unexpected, and beautiful thing was that… he didn't. Red's crimson stare never left her own as he cut through the commotion around him and walked until he was only inches away from Yellow. He smelled like pine wood and sunshine and maybe, just maybe, like her future.

Yellow's heart started to beat faster, just like it had every other time he had stood in front of her and simply smiled. And he was smiling. As if there was a secret only the two of them shared, and he was just glad to have found her to recall it again. The world shrank down to only his eyes and his face and his grin as Yellow realized that… he was going to tell her yes.

Against all odds and principles and rules and orders, he was going to make her a Princess.

His Princess.

That small, insecure piece of Yellow that somehow never seemed to go away was still nagging at her to turn down his Impending proposal. After all, she wouldn't make a good queen. Knew nothing about politics or diplomacy or military or strategy. Was poorer than dirt, and the farthest thing from enough for this gorgeous, brilliant boy. But for the first time in a while, Yellow heard the complaints and doubts and worries her inner self expressed, absorbed them, and deliberately ignored them. Chose not to listen to them.

Because maybe, maybe this one time she would just let herself be happy. Take what she wanted, and do the selfish thing for once in her life. Hold on to the beautiful kind boy in front of her and never let him go because good things like him only came about once in a lifetime and did she really want to give that up? Her brain told her that losing him would probably be for the best, considering her social class and upbringing. But her heart told her no no no no no as if the very word had become her new heartbeat.

 _No, you don't want to give him up. No, you don't want to lose him. No, you don't want to spend the rest of forever wondering what if, what if, what if you had said yes. No, you are going to tell him yes._

Red's hand reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. Yellow only then realized that the room had gone quiet, but she couldn't bring herself to care as Red's fingers dropped from her ear to her cheek, cheek to shoulder, shoulder to hand. He was holding her hand as if she were the most delicate creature on Earth, and he had to take care not to shatter her to pieces.

The first words that he said to her made Yellow want to laugh.

"I never caught your name the last time we met."

She never had told him before she ran from him that night at the ball. Of course it would be the first thing he wanted to know as they stood face to face.

Feeling almost shy again, Yellow softly breathed out her name. "Yellow."

Red smiled wider. "Yellow. We match."

A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she gave an awkward laugh to try and cover it up. "Yeah. I guess we do."

Red. Yellow. Probably the only two people in the kingdom named after colors.

Red's next words seemed to ring out as an address to the entire room, shattering the veil of intimacy they had just created. "Well, then, Yellow of the Kingdom of Kanto, servant to this esteemed household, I don't think I need to tell you how enchanted I was with you at the ball. And after you blew me off without giving me your name, I have to say that I am elated to know it now, and to have found you again."

He pulled her up to her feet from where she had been sitting on the couch, foot still settled comfortably in that single silver slipper. His large hands each held one of hers. He made solid eye contact with her as he continued to speak.

"I am a man of my word. I announced that I would marry the young lady who owned the silver slipper I had found. You are the lady, I presume?"

Yellow nodded once, and Red continued.

"Then, as the girl whose foot fit the shoe, and as the maiden who took my breath away at the ball, Miss Yellow, would you do me the honor of becoming my Princess?"

 _No, you can't do it. Yes, you can. No, it'll be too difficult, no, you'll fail, no- yes yes, just say yes, yes yes…_

"Yes. I-I would like nothing more than… to be with you."

Red's smile could have touched the stars it was so wide, and it was like the Earth stopped spinning and Yellow was still in awe that she was the one to have made him so happy when he suddenly swept her up in his arms and crushed her to his chest. She didn't even have time to worry about how her dirty clothing must be soiling his crisp suit because now he was whispering in her ear how delighted he was that she had said yes, how beautiful and sweet and adorable he thought she was, and how amazing a Princess she was going to make. And how nothing else mattered because he had found her.

Yellow drank it all in slowly, small arms wrapped tightly around his torso, and wondered why she had ever been so convinced she had to let him go.

Peasant girls weren't supposed to end up with Princes. Broken things like her were not supposed to ever belong to something as beautiful as love. But against all odds… here she was.

Here they were.


End file.
